Lexicon: II

The Fallen World

One year ago...

The world was burning.

Kinan's footsteps echoed through the empty streets, every shadow twisted by flickering flames and the glow of distant explosions. In the chaos, he could make out bodies scattered like discarded toys, remnants of a world that once had order. He gripped his rifle tighter, feeling the weight of its cold metal pressing against his shoulder. Each breath was shallow, every muscle tense.

He tried to focus, to keep his head clear. But his mind betrayed him, pulling him back to her face—Sasha's face—etched in pain and rage, her eyes unfocused yet piercing, as if staring into something he couldn't see.

"Kinan!" a voice snapped, yanking him back to the present. Olav's small frame darted from the shadows, light blue eyes glinting in the dim firelight. He grabbed Kinan by the shoulder, his voice sharp. "We don't have time for this. We need to move!"

Kinan blinked, pushing Sasha's image to the back of his mind. The dead were rising, and they couldn't afford any delays. Together, he and Olav sprinted through the smoke and dust, the sounds of the city's final moments fading behind them. In the distance, the first of the undead staggered into view, grotesque figures silhouetted against the burning skyline.

But Kinan didn't look back.

---

Present day

Lucantoni-Integrated Base, Carpathian Mountains

The mountain air was cold and thin, carrying the scent of pine and distant fires. From the watchtower, Kinan could see the sprawling landscape of Lucantoni Base below—a fortress of concrete and steel, tucked deep into the heart of the Carpathians. This base was a sanctuary, built to withstand everything from nuclear fallout to full-scale attacks. But even here, safety was fragile.

He watched as soldiers and civilians moved through the base, a quiet hum of activity. Barricades were reinforced, weapons checked, and patrols rotated with the precision of a well-oiled machine. Every face he saw below was etched with the same tension, the same hollow look that came with fighting a battle that never seemed to end.

In the command center below, Laswell was waiting.

Kinan took one last look over the base, then climbed down from the watchtower, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders like armor. He made his way through the narrow halls and into the briefing room, where the familiar figures of his team awaited him—Olav, Hoshino, Price, and Snake.

Laswell's expression was grim as she started the briefing. "The outbreak has spread farther than we anticipated," she began, her voice steady but edged with urgency. "We've identified new types of zombies emerging across several regions. And they're not like anything we've seen before."

She tapped a button, and footage flickered onto the screen. Grainy, chaotic images captured the creatures: one, a towering Brute, lumbered through a village, swatting away soldiers as if they were toys. Another showed a Screamer, mouth wide in a distorted, silent wail that shattered the camera lens with its sonic power. Kinan felt his gut twist as he watched the footage.

"These mutations," Laswell continued, "are Tanggapan Corp's doing. They've been experimenting with the virus, turning it into something... more."

Kinan clenched his fists. He knew Tanggapan was ruthless, but this... this was a new level of cruelty. Beside him, Olav crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. "So, what's the mission?"

Laswell's gaze shifted to each of them in turn, her voice firm. "We're going after the heart of Tanggapan's operations. Our objective is to locate and capture Professor Raidentea, the mind behind these mutations. We'll gather intel, disrupt their operations, and, if possible, eliminate their primary facility."

The room fell silent, the weight of the mission sinking in. They all knew what this meant: a high-risk operation with no guarantees. But that was their reality now—a life measured by missions, each one more dangerous than the last.

Price leaned back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just another day at the office, then."

Beside him, Snake's expression remained stoic, his eyes like cold steel. "This isn't just another mission. If we fail, they keep coming."

Hoshino, slouched in her chair with a sleepy look, let out a low whistle. "Sounds like a lot of work. But, hey... if it means getting out of here, I'm game."

Price chuckled, but Kinan could feel the tension beneath his words. Hoshino's humor was a mask, a way of coping with the horrors they all faced. But beneath it, he knew, was the same fear that gnawed at all of them—the fear that they wouldn't make it back.

Kinan took a breath, steadying himself. "All right. Let's gear up and go over the plan."

---

Two hours later

In the armory, the team prepared their weapons, the sound of loading rounds and clicking magazines filling the air. Each member of the team was a living weapon, honed by countless battles. They wore their scars like armor, and their eyes held the weight of too many losses.

Kinan checked his rifle, feeling the familiar weight of the metal in his hands. It was a small comfort, a reminder of every fight he'd survived. Beside him, Hoshino was loading her Benelli M4 shotgun, her eyes half-closed as she muttered to herself.

"Way past my nap time," she grumbled, adjusting her ballistic shield. "But who needs sleep when you've got zombies, right?"

Snake walked over, a faint smile crossing his lips as he handed her a spare magazine. "You'll get your nap when we're done," he said, his voice calm and steady. Hoshino flashed him a grin, but Kinan could see the shadows in her eyes.

"Listen up," Kinan said, his voice cutting through the room. "This mission is high-risk. We'll be dealing with Runners, Screamers, Brutes, and God knows what else. Stay close, stay focused, and keep each other alive."

He looked around the room, meeting each gaze—Olav's steady calm, Price's quiet confidence, Hoshino's tired but determined smirk, and Snake's steely resolve. They were his team, his family, and he'd die before letting any of them fall.

As they finished their preparations, Laswell appeared in the doorway, her face grave. "Helicopter's ready. Get moving."

The team filed out, the sound of their boots echoing in the narrow hallway. Outside, the cold mountain air bit at their faces as they climbed aboard the chopper. The rotors whirred to life, and they lifted off, the base shrinking below them as they soared into the night.

Kinan leaned back, eyes fixed on the dark horizon. Sasha's face flashed in his mind again, her gaze piercing through the shadows. He pushed it down, focusing on the mission ahead.

Because in this world, memories were dangerous. And ghosts could get you killed.

---

As the helicopter cut through the sky, Lucantoni Base faded into the distance, leaving only silence and the hum of the engine. The team sat in tense quiet, each lost in their own thoughts, their faces a mix of resolve and dread.

They were headed into darkness, with nothing but each other and their weapons. And they all knew that by the end, not everyone would come back.